


Sorry, Daddy

by cuntoid



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Cuckolding, Daddy Kink, F/M, Humiliation, M/M, MORTY IS AN ADULT, Multi, Voyeurism, commander rick is a fuckin DOM, handjob, just plastering that everywhere, morty gets a little taste of revenge haha, rickmorty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 12:29:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12299286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuntoid/pseuds/cuntoid
Summary: Finished commission and loose continuation of some other Rick/Morty/Reader commissions I've done. Rick finally trusts you and Morty to go to the Citadel unattended; Commander Rick has other plans. Slightly nonconsensual Rickmorty inside - all 18+ and not quite what you'd think.





	Sorry, Daddy

It's been a while since you've visited the Citadel. Rick has you under a tight leash after your last visit, unwilling to leave you alone around other Ricks; he only recently began to leave you alone with Morty again. It had been a long few weeks of kissing Rick's ass - you went about your days biting your tongue and taking his shitty attitude in stride, doing everything he asked of you without argument.

Morty strolls beside you now, the both of you as Rickless as can be. You're supposed to collect some documents from his office and come back; no stopping to visit other Ricks, no adventures, no bullshit. It's a clear test of his trust in you two, and you're invested in keeping things smooth. You don't want to create new problems while the waters are already troubled. Morty's silent for the majority of the walk, a change of pace from his usual infectious giggling over inside jokes on the way to the Citadel. Everything around you is bright and bursting with life, Ricks and Mortys filtering through the walkways, milling about the different stands and shops. 

"You seem quiet," you mutter to Morty. He glances at you stiffly, wearing a tight smile that puts you on edge. You lean over and bump your shoulder against his, tilting your head to catch his eye and hold it. "I mean it. You okay?"

"Wh- _me?_ Oh, no, I-I'm fine. Yeah. I'm just enjoying my last moments of freedom before Rick takes it a-all away again."

"Jesus, Morty. Stop being such a downer. We've been really good so far, and we're almost there, so..." You trail off as he smirks and shakes his head. You can't decide if you like him like this or if you want to slap him. The mean curl of his lip is handsome, screaming proof of the Sanchez blood running through his lanky body. He looks over, catches the expression on your face, and sighs as he drops the smirk and refocuses wearily ahead. He looks miserable. 

"Doesn't matter. Th-the - the Commander's been tailing us since we passed the Mod Lab. We're fucked. And - and by that, I mean _you're_ fucked."

You can't stop yourself from whipping around to look, and Morty's right. He's closer than you thought, and a shiver shakes down your spine as you realize how unaware of it you'd been, how he could just follow you like that without your knowledge. He strides up to cut smoothly between you two and slide an arm around your shoulder, as if you're old buddies. He smiles down at you and rubs soothing little circles into your arm with his thumb. The trepidation you felt moments ago drains away as you watch him lick his lips, thinking guiltily of your last interaction with him, of how reckless and mean he is.

"Been a minute. Where are you off to in a - in such a hurry?"

"We're on an errand f-for Rick," Morty interjects. He doesn't bother looking up at the Commander, even when he glares down at the younger man for stepping out of line. Morty continues, clearly having given up and surrendered to his current reality - a reality where no matter what, the both of you are going to be in a world of trouble. "We - we gotta get his papers. Files. Whatever... Looks like we, uh, w-won't be doing that, after all."

The prospect of doing something that might push Rick over the edge is anxiety-inducing, twisting your guts into nervous little knots. On the other hand, the way the Commander slips his fingers between yours and steers you off course seems promising; he looks determined, like a creature that's already cornered its kill.

"That's real nice. If - if only all Ricks had Mortys so _obedient_ , so utterly spineless and pathetic that they make day trips out of paperwork. Good boy, _Morty_. Sit, stay, roll - roll over. You suck his dick, too?"

Morty clenches and unclenches his fists. You watch as an intricate show of emotions cross his face in the span of a second, most of them resembling unbridled rage, the toxic build-up of too many Ricks talking too much shit. He takes a steadying breath before he smiles to himself. Never once does he so much as glance at the Commander. 

"No, no, _I_ don't suck his dick, b-but _Cicada_ does. She practically begs for it. He - he's got her really well-trained."

The Commander squeezes your fingers so hard you wince, but he doesn't seem aware of his own actions, of the fact that you can feel the bones in your hand grinding against each other before he finally relaxes his grip. You shoot Morty a glare as your cheeks explode with heat, shocked he would not only speak to the Commander this way but also throw you under the fucking bus like that. Rick hums to himself and rolls his eyes, a smile crossing his lips to match Morty's. From your perspective they look grim, ready to tear each others' throats out, and you worry for your companion's safety - not to mention his gradual slide into recklessness. 

"Y-Yeah? Guess we'll have to test that, huh?"

You end up at the Morty Daycare. Daycare Rick looks up from leafing through a magazine and mouths a toothpick, looking the Commander over with little noticeable interest. "The fuck you want?"

"Just need to - to check out a space in the back. Do some uh, quality assurance, some quality control."

"Ain't got nothing like that," Daycare Rick drawls. He turns back to his magazine and cracks his gum, maneuvering the toothpick to the corner of his mouth as each wet, pink bubble makes the Commander twitch with irritation. He loosens his grip on your fingers and strides up to the countertop to pluck the magazine, flicking his wrist and watching it flutter into the gravel as he stoops to Daycare Rick's eye level. The shopkeep glares at his superior and slaps his palms down. "H-Hey, _dickface_ , what the fuck?"

"A toothpick _and_ gum. That's interesting," Commander Rick spits. "Re-real fucking interesting. Know anyone else who likes bubblegum? Anyone who maybe gave you that gum? I-I hear - word on the street is there's a certain Rick who likes to share his gum right after he makes you -"

" _Shut the fuck up_ , Jesus, you - you made your point, asshole. Come inside, but don't even fuckin' _look_ at the Mortys. Y-You know, usually people pay _generously_ for this kind of thing. I'm not a fuckin' Motel 8." Once Daycare Rick reluctantly opens his door to the three of you, he stops the Commander and jabs a finger into his lapel. "I don't give a fuck who you are. This is _my zone_ and these are _my_ Mortys. They're not fans of the Council and neither am I."

The Commander rolls his eyes and swats the offending digit from his suit, dusting it lightly once Daycare Rick has his hands to himself. He leads you inside, winding through a thick crowd of Mortys before opening a door to a nondescript room - it could be a spare bedroom, neat and compact with a clean bed, a nightstand, a couple of chairs. In the corner sits a small refrigerator with various bottles littering the top. He gives Morty his full attention and the deep frown carved in his lips softens slightly. "You good?"

Morty shrugs, eyes heavy with defeat as he mumbles that he's fine, thanks. He eyes Morty a moment longer before reflecting his gesture, lifting one shoulder indifferently before turning to leave.

"I'll remember this favor despite your shitty fuckin attitude."

"Blow it out your ass, _Commander_."

Rick turns to you and Morty with a grim smile as the door slams shut. He pushes Morty dismissively to the side, snapping his fingers at him like a dog to stay by the wall while he focuses on herding you toward the bed. Morty crosses his arms, glaring at nothing particular as you turn to watch Rick saunter, leading with his slim hips. It's hard not to stare at him like this, all glinting teeth and leering eyes and his long, long body. You allow yourself to fall back on your ass when the backs of your legs hit the mattress. Rick strokes your face, settling close enough to you that the warmth of his body radiates like a star, threaded through with his musky cologne. 

Looking up at him from this angle makes you warm, a hot, prickling flush chasing underneath your skin to stain it a demure red as you admire his imposing form. For all the bells and whistles of his uniform, the gold trim and dramatic silhouette, the cap whose brim is always buffed to a slick shine - for all of the pageantry, you find yourself drawn instead to how tightly it fits his frame and the growing, tight bulge of his crotch. He unzips himself slowly and you take two gloved fingers between your lips as you watch. He makes a soft noise in his chest, almost like a purr, and pulls his heavy cock through the opening his uniform. 

The next moment seems rushed and slow all at once as he strokes himself, leaking over his gloved knuckles. It dawns on you that he's not going to remove them, and the fact that he won't even touch you with his bare fingers speaks volumes about what you are to him, what he wants from you, and you put up zero resistance as he hooks his fingers behind your teeth to ease your jaw open. The feeling of all that firm, rippled flesh sliding over your tongue makes you moan, lapping at the tight knot underneath the curve of his head before it settles at the opening of your throat. You hold back the initial gag with some effort, stray tears slipping from your eyes as he coos down to you. 

" _Mmmm, th-that's what I figured_. You're not so loyal to your _Daddy_ , after all, are you? Not when you're due for a real dicking, huh? Does my nasty l-little slut need to be used?"

Your answer comes in the embarrassing whine you release as he jerks his hips and buries himself into your throat. It's difficult not to gag - not that it bothers the Commander. He grinds forward against your struggling, clutching his big, glossy gloves on either side of your head so he can fuck your mouth. Each sputter and gag and moan spurs him on. Out of the corner of your eye, you spy Morty watching with some level of guilt, mouth drawn in a thin line and arms frozen in place. A telling swell in the crotch of his slacks gives him away and you close your eyes again to focus on the Commander. You keep your tongue flat and lips over the edges of your teeth while your face burns. Drool collects and spills down your chin in delicate threads.

"Pull up your skirt, slut."

He doesn't pause his punishing rhythm, instead peering down to watch you figure it out. It's embarrassing how quickly you yank it up, spreading your thighs and guiltily tugging at the edges of your thigh-high socks. He grunts in approval, dick twitching in your throat. 

"Be a considerate, generous fucktoy and - and rub your wet little clit for him." He spares a smirk for Morty and pets your hair, tone soft and cloying and dripping with condescension. "If you cum, I-I'll beat the shit out of you after I cum down your throat. Under - understand me? Say you understand me."

You look helplessly up at him and he lifts an eyebrow. He lets a beat pass before forcing his cock so far that you're kissing the base of him, gagging hard enough that your stomach lurches and you shake. He pulls back but doesn't pull _out,_ thrusting shallowly to rub the head of his dick over your tongue. "Say it _now_."

The sounds you make attempting coherent speech are enough to reignite the shameful blush from the tips of your ears to your chest. The Commander hums and laughs under his breath. 

"Oh, oh, I - I'm sorry, honey, did you need me to pull out so you can make some fucking sense? Hol-hold on..."

Once your tongue is free, you catch your breath and feel how swollen your lips are, how slick a d soft. You wet your fingers with them, watching Rick idly stroke himself as he watches _you,_ attention divided between your mouth and the fingers teasing your slit. You whisper shakily that you understand, but he shakes his head, theatrically cupping a hand around his ear. 

"I understand, uh - _Sir._."

"Oohhh, we remember, huh? I'm impressed; I-I bet you finger that filthy fucking cunt all the time thinking about how satisfied I left you before, isn't that right? Maybe you, uh.. deserve a little somethin, huh, baby? Lay back. Same deal, though, _no cumming._ "

You're flat against the squeaky mattress without further instruction and you wait, legs parted wide and chest heaving with your poorly contained gasps, fingers bunched tightly in your skirt. He finally grants you the physical contact you've been burning for, every muscle in your belly tightening with deep, mounting pleasure as he laps at your clit. It takes a little force, but he manages to work his slick fingers inside, and his adamant refusal to remove the gloves arouses you all over again as you contract against them. Your wonder faintly if the Mortys can hear your wailing; you can't help it, speared on his hooked, beckoning fingers and bucking your hips against his tongue. 

The Commander pulls his mouth away and you push up on your elbows to stare blearily down at him. The sight of his hand between your legs and the slick on his gloves makes you ache for more. He's turned toward Morty, who looks mortified and mildly uncomfortable as he fidgets his hands. 

"Call - call _Daddy_ over, you useless runt. I want his bitch ass to watch his girl worship my cock."

Morty sighs, brows drawn together in irritation. "Y-You _really_ want that? Are you fuckin - how, how many times do we really need -"

"Do it, you dumb little fuck, or I'll fucking hurt her."

You rush to the edge of climax and whine his name as Morty mumbles in the background, your focus on him obliterated by the urgent pulsing around his fingers. He halfheartedly soothes you down as he continues to assault your nerves, the only thing pulling you from this torture being the blinding, radioactive glow of a portal as Rick comes through. He takes one look at the Commander kneeling at the foot of the bed, buried between your thighs, and he's enraged. Rick's eyes bore into yours as his fists clench and unclench at his sides - you see where Morty gets it. 

"Wh-what in the fucking dead _christ_ -"

"Thought you could use another lesson, Rick. Y-You should be a little more grateful - you could really learn something from watching me use this tight little cocktease; _she_ seems grateful. Ain't that right, doll?"

" _Yes, Sir._ "

"That's right. Hey, come - come closer, come here, both of you. Right up close, there you go. Front row seats. I'm all kinds of generous tonight," the Commander laughs, retracting his fingers. He pulls them apart, coated obscenely in your arousal, and reaches down to smear them over his cock. He yanks your hips down until you're practically hanging off the edge, rising up to meet your body... _almost_. He turns to your Rick with a grin that both chills you to the bone and makes you inexplicably needy. "Hey, _Daddy_ , why don't you do me a solid and, and line me up? I could do it myself, but you know, if - I bet you're _itching_ for some semblance of control, right, you pathetic fuck? So be a pal, go ahead and grab my cock and guide it into your girl."

For a moment, you're convinced that he's going to short circuit and kill the Commander; but you know him. You can read his hesitation, the train of thought plowing recklessly through his head, the humiliation and pride and the restraints of his coveted position - he needs to keep his job. He has to do damn near anything the Commander tells him to. And so, under the oppressive thumb of his superior, he reaches between your bodies and you watch in shock as his fingers wrap around the Commander's girth, working him between your swollen cunt lips. Even Morty looks floored, finally abandoning his growing irritation for disbelief. He cracks the tiniest, most blissful grin you have ever seen on his face before he suppresses it. 

The Commander chuckles and Rick unhands him, looking so helplessly furious that you feel a little afraid. It drains away as you're slowly stretched open, his hips driving steadily forward until he's fully seated within the aching, tensed walls of your pussy, and without any further warning, he rears back and pounds his hips forward. The force of it bounces you back only for him to grip your waist with his big hands, keeping you from slipping away from his brutal pace. Each thrust is hard enough that you can feel his balls, lewd slapping sounds punctuating the broken stream of moans leaving your lips. There's no use in trying to be modest. The Commander is rough but precise, leering appreciatively down at you to soak in every little twitch of your body, every shudder and gasp and expression. He uses your body like it's a weapon he can use to destroy Rick.

He pauses to push your legs up and apart, resting them in the crooks of his arms as he crawls up over you. He yanks greedily at the neckline of your dress and the feeling of his teeth and fingers on your nipples takes your breath away. A convulsion spasms through your core and you open your eyes to focus on anything else, anything but the delicious coil of heat twisting inside of you or the way he's fucking you like he wants to break you. You glance at Morty and he looks like he's burning alive, cock achingly hard and trapped in the confines of his uniform. 

A soft hum is felt more than heard, hot on your throat before the Commander nips at it, nuzzling into your heated skin and taking in your scent. In the background, somewhere in the haze that seems to swallow the room, Rick and Morty bicker.

"Jesus, Morty, are - are you _hard?_ Y-Y-You can't keep it under control? Really?" 

"Fuck off, Rick, you - look at _you,_ we - I-I think we're all sort of in that boat together. Prick."

The Commander grunts and sits up a little as he adjusts the angle, pounding directly into a soft, tucked spot deep inside your cunt that has you seeing lights behind your eyelids, fisting his suit like you might drown if you don't stay pressed against him. Everything overwhelms you. 

"Rick, if his dick is bothering you so much, fix it for him." He turns to the bewildered pair and smirks. "Morty could probably use it. Do it. Jerk him off."

Rick grimaces and shifts his gaze between Morty's and his boss' expressions. Morty looks shocked at first and then his handsome features contort and that small grin is back. He unbuckles his pants and pushes them down his hips, cock practically red and dripping as it bounces from its prison. Rick sneers at this display and shakes his head "No fuckin way. I get it, I'm a useless -"

"No, Rick, I don't think you quite grasp it - _fuck_ , I forgot how tight your little girlfriend is; she can really milk a cock. Which is what you're going to - to do, or else you can get the fuck out of the Citadel and stay out. _Get it?_ "

Rick growls and glares at Morty. "You're fuckin' lucky I got a quick hand, you pervy little bitch." 

It's surreal watching him take Morty's dick in his hand and give it a few experimental strokes before working him with purpose, petting the head of his cock and spitting on it to help spread the slick. Morty shudders against his own will, rocking minutely into Rick's twisting palm and making breathy, appreciative sounds like whines. 

"Slower."

"Just let me do this quick and - and easy, Morty, don't worry - this isn't th-the first handy I've given, okay?"

"I said _slower_ , dipshit."

Rick squeezes Morty's cock hard enough to make him yelp before slowing his fist. You can't believe the scene you're in, the way you're licking your lips at Morty while the Commander laughs. He meets your restless, charged squirming with steady thrusts, cooing encouragement at you as you watch Rick grapple with his shame. It gives you a certain thrill seeing him this way, seeing _Morty_ this way; you can't tell what the point of any of this is aside from excess, pure and heady and pervasive. When the Commander reaches down to swipe a slick thumb against your clit, you feel grateful enough to cry. 

"Fuck - R-Rick, go f-fuh-faster," Morty gasps. His cheeks are bright red and you lock eyes with him while your clit is overwhelmed with attention. You writhe up against the Commander and feel your cunt spasm like a warning, a beacon through the mist to signal your undoing. 

"Fuck, baby, you - you're getting close, huh? Is my little plaything gunna cum? Y-You gunna beg for me to drain my fucking balls inside of you? Don't tell _me_ \- tell your _Daddy_. Tell him who really owns your hot, needy cunt, tell him."

Morty jerks his hips and grips Rick's arm, humping into his fist as he spends himself all over Rick's hand, shaking with each pulse that racks his slim frame. The sight of him overcome like that combined with all this sensation winds your aching muscles to their breaking point and you stare at Rick with naked, primal need, begging with your eyes before you even open your mouth.

" _I need to cum, Daddy, th-the Commander's gunna f-fill me uh-hup, ohh God, Daddy I'm sorry, I can't h-help -_ "

As you convulse below him, heat twisting through your throbbing, blissful release and spiking your bloodstream, the Commander speeds his pace, bottoming out with each thrust as you tremble. Everything feels like light, warm and bright in every inch of your skin, dazzling your nerves with sparks that pop and fizzle just below the surface. 

"God, not only did you jerk off your Morty, b-but your little girl came over it... on another man's cock. Fuck, baby, you ready for me?"

"Yes, Sir..."

"Good girl, good little toy, _shit - fuck, fuck,_ take my cum, take it, you nasty little slut."

The way his cock engorges and pumps into you brings back a flutter of release and your eyes roll back as he gives you a last hard thrust, rocking a little before pulling out. Cum leaks from your overworked pussy and pools on the sheets, the Commander sighing and tucking himself away. He smirks at Rick and straightens his cap before giving him a mock salute, fingers tapping the bill of his cap before he marches out of the room. The three of you wait in baited silence after the door swings shut, yours and Morty's hushed, labored breathing the only sound left in the room. The silence is deafening. Tense. It stretches unbearably long until Rick grabs his portal gun and shoots a neon doorway halfway through the room. 

"Get the fuck out of here and wash up, Morty, you sick l-little fuck. If you breathe a word about this to anyone, I'll fucking kill you. I-I'll gut you, I'll fuckin bury you on a distant star. Get out of my sight."

Once Morty is gone, clearly happy to exit the situation, the door knits itself neatly shut and Rick approaches the bed with such a stern look that your stomach flips and the sore, tired walls of your cunt clench painfully down on nothing.

"I hope you liked cumming, little girl, because you're not going to for a long time. Now... pull your fucking skirt up for Daddy."


End file.
